


No Man's Land

by okayylmaocomputer97



Category: No Fandom, Original Work
Genre: F/M, Historical, Love Letters, Original Fiction, Trench Warfare, World War I, historical fiction - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-09-25
Updated: 2017-02-04
Packaged: 2018-08-17 06:40:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 1,085
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8134015
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/okayylmaocomputer97/pseuds/okayylmaocomputer97
Summary: An original work about a soldier fighting in WWI.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! Thank you for coming to read this :) I wrote this late at night in a sudden burst of motivation. All characters are original and created by me. This is historical fiction about a young soldier and his time before, during, and after fighting in WWI. Each chapter is going to be a short drabble about a certain time in his life. It wont be in chronological order. Thank you.

The argosy of gunfire and explosions pound on his ears and reverberate deep inside his skull. With pathetic grunts he desperately tries to claw his way up, feet slipping on the muddy walls of the trench. A tremor suddenly shakes the Earth, further knocking him off his balance. A scream escapes him as he topples down to the bottom of the trench just as a shower of dirt rains down upon him.

He lies disoriented on his back for a moment, staring into the aimless gray that is the sky. His body feels like a pile of bricks and it seems like a hammer is pounding into his head; he wouldn't be surprised if his ears were bleeding. The foul taste of dirt brings him back to his senses and he spits furiously. He hauls himself upright, ignoring the screams of his muscles, and looks around. The once compact dirt that made up the trench walls is now slippery mud. Rivulets of water run down the sides, pooling at the bottom with a gross brown color. 

It's all too much. He hangs his head and feels his bottom lip tremble. A lump at the back of his throat forms and his chest tightens. A small sob seeps past his lips and he utters five small words, instantly lost to the cacophony of war.

"I want to go home."


	2. Chapter 2

"Oh Richard, do you _have_ to go?"

"Yes mother," he smiles. "Don't worry, I'll be fine! I'll send you a letter once I get to France."

"Will you be scared?" Mary pipes up. The 12-year-old was certainly too young to fully understand what was going on at the time, so all she had been told was there was a war and her brother was going to fight in it.

A beat. Then, "Well, maybe a little." Richard rubs the back of his neck sheepishly. "Don't fret about me! I will be fine. It brings me great joy knowing I'm fighting for my country and for Europe. Those Germans won't stand a chance." 

Theresa sniffs loudly. "Just like your father. He'd be proud of you... you have everything you need?" 

"Yes, mother," Richard lifts up his bag, which he had been resting on the ground. "Don't forget the military will be giving us clothes, too." 

"Be careful," Florence says softly. Her blue eyes are full of worry. Richard hates seeing her like this.

"I will, I promise," He gently takes her hand. "I'll send you letters every week." He presses his lips to her knuckles. "Be careful back here, too."

Florence nods. "Yes. I'll send you letters every week, too. And care packages, if I can." She smiles.

" _All aboard_!"

"Well, I must be going," he sighs. "All of you, take care. Please don't worry about me," his gaze sweeps over them all. "Take care of yourselves and keep in contact. I'll write the minute I get in France."

"Bless you, son," Theresa sobs.

"Isn't my brother brave? He's fighting in the war!" Mary says excitedly, waving. Richard laughs and gives a tiny wave back.

"I love you," Florence murmurs. 

"As do I, forever and ever," Richard replies. "Farewell."

Florence sobs softly and gives him one last, gentle kiss on the lips, for good luck. "Farewell," she replies, a tear rolling down her cheek. 

He gives them all one long, hard look, before turning and running onto the train. He doesn't look back.

 


	3. Chapter 3

Richard tosses in his bed for what has to be the hundredth time this night. It's hot, too hot for September, and next to him a soldier snores loudly. His body is overrun with fatigue but his mind races. In a situation like his, whose wouldn't? Tomorrow he is to be deployed to Marne to fight alongside the French. He has been training in the military for almost two years yet he feels unprepared. He tries to be optimistic, for his family and friends back home, but the nagging threat of death itches at his mind. No matter how hard he tries to bury it, it always crawls back up. 

He rolls onto his back and sighs softly. It's pitch black in the tent. He can't see anything, but he keeps his eyes open anyways. He lets his thoughts drift and swirl about in his mind. He thinks of home, thinks of Florence.

Florence. Oh, Florence. How his heart aches to see her face again. He's only been gone two weeks and he's already terribly homesick.

He idly lifts a finger and runs it along on his lips. His touch is light, just barely drifting over his skin. Florence's lips were always chapped and rough against his. She found it embarrassing but Richard loved it. Her kisses were always so soft and gentle, sometimes tantalizingly so. 

He remembers when he last saw her at the train station, crying. She had told him she wouldn't cry. Richard knew she would, though. The girl was always so emotional. When she was happy it was like a thousand suns were radiating from her. It made Richard's heart go wild, to see her smile and laugh, to see that beautiful twinkle in her eye. 

She cried so easily, though. Her strong emotions often got in the way. Richard found it irritating.

Yet Richard figured he had his own flaws Florence found annoying. Perhaps it was how quiet he could be sometimes, or his indecisiveness. But no matter their flaws, the two loved each other dearly. Florence had been on Richard's mind the moment he got on the train, fading in and out of his conscious and subconscious thought.

Another sigh. Richard closes his eyes. Tomorrow is going to be a big day. 


	4. Chapter 4

He used to love the snow.

Now, as he crushes it under his boots in the trench, he cant help but hate it. 


	5. Chapter 5

“Slow down!” Richard gasps, almost tripping over his feet as he chases after his partner.  
“It went this way!” Florence calls, running into the bushes. “I saw it.”  
“It’s probably gone, now,” Richard pants. “It’s just a rabbit.”  
Florence says nothing, her eyes scanning over the brush.  
“It’ll be fine,” he reassures.  
“If you insist,” she huffs, and the two walk back to the path.


	6. Chapter 6

"Say hello to your sister, Richard," his mother says, voice soft and sweet, yet dashed with exhaustion from the childbirth she endured just a few hours ago.

Richard looks down at the.... _thing_ bundled in white, held securely in his mother's arms. He grimaces.

"I wished for a brother!" 


End file.
